Small Talk About Socks
Some customer-mistresses, the majority, don’t want to speak to me at all, because I am beneath them. They just want me to get on with my humble job of lickshining their dirty boots or shoes. At the other extreme there are the chatty ones who are more than happy to chat with me about anything under the sun whilst I tongue work on their footwear.
Regular customer-mistress Ms Arabella madam is somewhere in between – she allows me to speak to her, but only about her boots and socks, as she feels (quite rightly) that is my only legitimate concern. Moreover, I must do so most humbly and respectfully, as befits a slave enquiring of his female master as to the wellbeing of her footwear:
‘Oh pray, mistress Arabella madam. God bless you, mistress Arabella madam. And thank you for visiting me again today, mistress. Oh mistress, may this slave enquire as to the comfort and wellbeing of your white socks inside your boots madam? Are your socks sitting well on your feet this morning, miss? Are they comfortable inside your boots? They certainly look nice, miss, if a little creased?’
‘Yeah, they’re fine, slave. Just get on with lickshining my boots. I wanna be able to see my face in them!’
‘Yes, miss. At once, miss Arabella madam.’
So, there you have it! Not much of a conversation, I know, but still a privilege for a public slave like me to even mention my superior customer-mistress’s socks in her presence. Ms Arabella’s socks, like all my customers’ socks, are much higher and more important entities than me. They are magnificent socks on a magnificent person. I bow my head before them, as I obediently lickshine her boots.
Meanwhile Ms Arabella madam engages in a real conversation, a proper conversation, with her friend on the phone high above me, a conversation to which I am not a party. And rightly so.
